


Born of Kaer Morhen

by Fangirlshrewt97



Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 Fills [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Bonding, Brotherhood, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel is a Good Bro, Friendship, Gen, Geralt Whump Week, Geralt feels a lot but doesn't have the words to express it, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Male Friendship, Memories, Prompt: Kaer Morhen, Reminiscing, The Witcher Trials, We all deserve an Eskel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25129021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlshrewt97/pseuds/Fangirlshrewt97
Summary: A few days after the Trials, Geralt is having a difficult time coping with the loss of the rest of his brothers. Luckily, Eskel is there to guide him back to shore.Excerpt: His expression was blank but the hurt and horror was apparent in his voice. He was haunted. “Kaer Morhen has been the only home I have known, the only one I remember. I remember walking these hallways, remember when we had the day off and us and our brothers all hid in different towers and took turns trying to see who would find everyone first. We have laughed, and cried, sweat and bled all over the stones of the courtyard. And to what end? Just the two of us stand on the other side.”Eskel hesitated before taking Geralt’s hand, rubbing a thumb over weathered knuckles. “I hear their screams too.”Golden eyes rose to meet golden eyes. “Kaer Morhen doesn’t feel like Kaer Morhen anymore.”Geralt Whump Week Day 7, Prompt: Kaer Morhen
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 Fills [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812871
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Born of Kaer Morhen

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader,
> 
> Here's Day 7. I hope you like the story, and if you do please let me know through kudos or comments (one word, keyboard smashes, or favorite lines all welcome)!  
> If you have been following my stories this week, thank you so much for your support. Please let me know if you have a favorite from the bunch, or anything else you liked about them!
> 
> None of these characters belong to me, I am temporarily borrowing them.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story,
> 
> Fangirlshrewt97

Geralt was seated on one of the crenalations of the highest tower of Kaer Morhen, eyes closed as he listened to the wind rustle through the mountains. It was early autumn, so the cold was not too biting and the sun’s heat could still be felt. His legs swung from where they hung over the wall, a five thousand feet drop below him. In the distance, he could hear the training masters barking out instructions.

“I was right.”

Geralt opened his eyes at the voice, tilting his head towards the right to see Eskel walking towards him, balancing on the roof below before bending and propelling himself into the tower in a neat jump.

Their new abilities had not yet lost their novelty, and the two boys enjoyed the chance to explore them outside the strict eye of their training masters.

“What were you right about?”

“Vesemir asked me where you had gone. I guessed this spot.”

“Hmm, what were the other guesses?”

“I was the only one who guessed.”

“Then you didn’t win anything.”

“I found you.”

Geralt looked over at his best friend - no his brother, their common medallions still shining bright on their chests. They had received them mere days ago, and the weight was still foreign.

Eskel settled himself next to Geralt, close enough Geralt could feel the heat of Eskel’s thigh.

They both stayed quiet, enjoying the view. Geralt had never been too fond of words, or at least could not remember being so since arriving at Kaer Morhen. He had found a brother in Eskel, both so similar yet different enough to have a bond strong enough to withstand even the trials.

Subconsciously, his hands curled tight against the stone of the tower.

Eskel noticed, and placed his own hand on top of Geralt’s, rubbing with his thumb until the tension went away. It had been a gesture the trainers always frowned at, but no one had verbally said them to stop, so they hadn’t.

“What were you thinking about just now?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Geralt growled, but Eskel would always be the last person to be intimidated by him. He just stared evenly at Geralt’s face until furious golden eyes met hit own. Eskel stood his ground.

“You’re thinking about the trials.”

Geralt’s growl got deeper.

“Hmm, you wear your heart on your sleeve my friend.”

“What do you want Eskel?”

“Tell me what is bothering you.”

“No.”

“Invalid answer.” Eskel’s tone was light, almost teasing, and it just made Geralt angry, an itch starting beneath his skin that only violence would cure.

“Eskel…”

“What? Are you going to push me off the cliff? I am trying to help, stop being a stubborn ass.”

Geralt let out a frustrated exhale, jaw clenching.

“The new recruits start today.”

The non-sequitar threw Eskel off for a bit, but he recovered quickly. “Ok…”

When Geralt did not offer anything additional, Eskel bit the inside of his mouth. As if Geralt would make anything easy.

“Geralt. What about the new recruits?”

“Nothing.”

Geralt felt the anger building in his veins, Vesemir had warned them that should they pass the trials, the first few weeks, it would not just be their senses that would be heightened but also their emotions. He had not been prepared for just how amplified his emotions felt. He was not angry at Eskel, he knew his brother was only trying to help him. The sound of the trainee’s practice swords banging against each other grew louder. The world started to feel like it was underwater.

“Geralt.” Eskel called out, moving his hand to grasp Geralt’s shoulder.

The anger boiled over. Before he could process it, Geralt had lunged at Eskel, slamming him into the floor of the tower’s balcony above which they had been sitting. Eskel choked on impact but grabbed at Geralt and soon the two were wrestling on the ground, not holding back. They had always been equally matched in size and strength, where Eskel was better at signs, Geralt exceeded in hunting and tracking. But Geralt had also been given an extra round of mutations, so ultimately, he tired slower than Eskel, and at the first sign of slowing down, threw him to the opposite side of the tower. Eskel groaned before moving to sit up.

“Enough Geralt.”

“Tired already?”

Eskel growled. “I am trying to have a conversation with you. But if you insist on continuing this with fists, then I will throw you out of this balcony.”

Geralt rushed for him, but Eskel sidestepped at the last moment, leaving Geralt to crash head first into the wall and fall back with a loud cry.

“Look at that, your skull really is thick. It managed to make a crack.” Eskel said from somewhere near his shoulder. All Geralt could feel was pain, a great throbbing inside his head. He groaned again when strong arms wrapped themselves below his armpits and leveraged him up against the wall he had apparently cracked. He felt a change in the air before the ache faded to the background, and Geralt was able to open his eyes without feeling as though his eyes would pop out of his head.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Es--kelllll….” Geralt rasped, even those simple syllables taking the wind out of him.

Eskel sighed and sat on his knees in front of him. Ignoring his groan and attempts to bat him away, Eskel ran his fingers over the back of Geralt’s head and face, making sure nothing was too badly injured. “Congratulations all you have done is given yourself a massive headache and made yourself look like a mess.”

It was quiet when Eskel shifted from his knees to sit criss-cross in front of him. 

“Do you want me to fetch you a painkiller?”

Geralt shook his head. He had it leaned back against the wall at an angle, relieving the pressure from the bump to the back of his head. His eyes had also fallen shut, and his body was slouched. The fight had also left him.

He opened his eyes when Eskel covered his hand with his own.

“Well. Since we got the useless fight out of the way. Just. Just talk to me Geralt. Please. I want to help.”

A lump formed in Geralt’s throat, same as every other time he tried to talk about his feelings. Words only ever got Geralt in trouble. Words only ever drove away the people he cared about.

“I can’t.” He finally said, a bare whisper. A forbidden confession.

Eskel didn’t force him. That would only serve to make things worse.

"I’m sorry I pushed.”

“Its not-” Geralt grew frustrated. Eskel had nothing to apologize for. He knew he was being the stubborn problem here. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“Come, it is almost time for lunch.”

“I am not hungry.”

“You skipped breakfast.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Geralt…” Eskel growled in warming. Geralt stared at him with hard eyes, daring him to do something. “You know, usually I can at least guess why you are being a repressed asshole. Today I cannot even do that. So please, I will beg if that is what it takes, tell me what is going on today. You are hurting, and I don’t care about all the bullshit Vesemir teaches us that we don’t have emotions. We may not have them all, and we may not have them as clearly, but we still feel because we are alive. I can hear your blood roaring, your heart pounding. You cannot hide from me Geralt, but I am also not a mage, able to read your thoughts. So please, just talk to me.”

Geralt stares at him before averting his gaze, eyes turning a little softer.

“The new recruits are here.”

“Yes?”

“They start today.”

“You’ve mentioned this already.”

Eskel does not mean to be obtuse, but he had no idea what the new recruits have to do with Geralt being angry, they are hardly the first batch to join since they started training. He can see it is frustrating Geralt that he is not understanding though.

“Geralt…”

“We are the only ones who survived the trials Eskel.” Geralt bites out, and Eskel is once again thrown for a loop with that non-sequitar.

What does them being the only survivors have to do with the new recruits- Oh. Is that what had been bothering Geralt? Stupid man had always had the softest heart, most at odds with his gruff exterior.

“Oh.” Is all he says aloud.

Geralt curls into himself, shame starting to mix into his scent.

“Geralt,” Eskel starts, knowing he will have to choose his words carefully, “correct me if I am wrong, but are you thinking about the new recruits and the fact most of them are going to die during the Trials?”

If possible, Geralt curls into himself more. He felt a mixture of shame and anger, as well as guilt. How was it fair?

“It isn’t meant to be fair.” Eskel said. “Witcher training is grueling, and it is not kind, and it not something any child should go through. But unfortunately we live in a world where Witchers are necessary, and the best way to maximize their chances on the Path is to train them to their limits here, in a controlled setting.”

“There are 20 boys down there Eskel. 2 out of 20 will survive.”

Eskel sighed. “It is not meant to be easy Geralt. It’s just.”

Geralt turned sharply to look at him. “Just what?”

“The boys, they come here, we came here, because no one wanted us. I don’t know the world outside these walls is worse for orphans than in here, but I also don’t think it is kinder either.”

“Maybe not to all. But to some.”

“Maybe. But this is the fate that has been assigned to us. The fate we have all chosen to undergo. We are all given a choice. The life of a Witcher is not one of happiness or easiness but at least it is a life.”

“It has been three days Eskel. I can still hear the echoes of their screams.” Geralt said. His expression was blank but the hurt and horror was apparent in his voice. He was haunted. “Kaer Morhen has been the only home I have known, the only one I remember. I remember walking these hallways, remember when we had the day off and us and our brothers all hid in different towers and took turns trying to see who would find everyone first. We have laughed, and cried, sweat and bled all over the stones of the courtyard. And to what end? Just the two of us stand on the other side.”

Eskel hesitated before taking Geralt’s hand, rubbing a thumb over weathered knuckles. “I hear their screams too.”

Golden eyes rose to meet golden eyes. “Kaer Morhen doesn’t feel like Kaer Morhen anymore.”

“That is because it is tainted. Tainted by the blood of our brothers, and all those who came before them, all who pled their loyalty to her, and ended up dead before they could put their word to work. This keep is ours Geralt, ours to uphold, ours to guard, and ours to return to. The walls, they hold our memories.”

“All they hold are screams.”

“That’s not true.” Eskel pleaded. He glanced around the tower they were in, before rising, making a noise of surprise. He came back and held out one of the broken ceiling tiles. In his hand he had a jar from somewhere.

Geralt looked at him in confusion. “Where did you get the jug?”

“Later, first see this.” Eskel said as he held out the tile.

“It’s… a broken tile?”

Eskel smiled. “Yes. Turn it over.”

Geralt took the tile and turned it, inhaling at the sight. There, in childish handwriting someone had scratched an R and an E into the tile, along with a date.

“What is this?”

“Do you remember that day?” Eskel asked, pointing to the date. No, it had been almost eight years ago now.

“Remus. We were about to start our first round of Trials that week. Remus couldn’t sleep, and neither could I. I heard him get up and leave the dormitory, so I followed him. You and the others were asleep.”

“Where did he go?”

“Here. He came up here, and he heard me too, so he invited me to join him.”

“And?”

“The sneaky bastard had managed to somehow swipe a bottle of ale from the teacher’s table and had hidden it up here. He showed me this nook in the wall, and how sometimes he would sneak up here to drink.”

“I knew he was stealing wine.” Geralt whispered as he remembered his brother. Remus had had some of the quickest reflexes among them, and could sweet talk the cook into always giving me a little extra sweet.

Eskel chuckled. “Yeah, we stood right here, it was practically pitch black, the lights from the courtyard and the torch he had swiped from the hallway the only thing giving light. He shared his bottle with me, told me it was in case we didn’t make it through the first style, we should at least go having tasted alcohol.”

“The inscription.”

“We drank the whole bottle, we got stupid drunk. Remus’s idea. He pulled the tile that hid his nook and used a pebble to scratch it. He was trying for our full names but ended up writing R too big to fit anything else, so he just wrote an E. And the date.”

“It became a little thing between us, right before every Trial, once all of you fell asleep, he and I would sneak up here and drink.”

“Is that why you were always hungover during the Trials.”

Eskel socked him in the arm. “If I had been hungover and still managed to pass the Trials, then that means I am the most incredible Witcher to have ever lived.”

“Fuck off Eskel.” Geralt said jovially. Eskel joined his laughter, and laughed so hard, until they heard pottery clink against the wall. They saw the bottle leaning against it.

Taking it gently in his arms, Eskel turned it over. “After we lost him two years ago, I couldn’t really bring myself to come up here. Until you dragged me.”

“Eskel…”

Eskel shook his head. “It’s alright. In fact it proves my point.”

When Geralt tilted his head, Eskel gave the bottle a shake. “Remus is gone Geralt, he would have been an incredible Witcher, but he didn’t make it. I miss him daily, he was the funniest of us. But just because he died doesn’t mean he never existed. We are the only ones left of our batch, and that is unfair. But the greater injustice is if we forget our brothers. We are the ones who have to keep their memory alive.” Eskel looked down the tile fragment in his hand. “Kaer Morhen is here to keep their memory alive. This tower will always remind me of the nights with Remus, the pools will remind me of the time we decided to add those snapping stones to the water before the professors came to bathe. The greenhouse will remind me of Lionel discovering he was allergic to sagewood.”

Geralt felt a new feeling bloom in his gut. The pain and the anger were still there. But as Eskel kept talking, they faded. He realized it was acceptance.

“Kaer Morhen guards them, guards their memory.”

A moment of understanding.

Of connection.

A breath, a letting go.

A sharing of the burden of grief.

A forgiveness and an acceptance from two guilty survivors to each other.

Eskel smiled, and rose, brushing off his pants before holding out a hand for Geralt. Geralt took it.

“Come brother, let us make sure the injury will heal quickly, and we will go meet the recruits.”

“Eskel.” Geralt’s arm tightened in Eskel’s hold, but Eskel gave him a soft smile.

“The new recruits are still here Geralt, and if we don’t guide them, who will? The test does not discriminate, if you are strong, you pass. Let us go make those boys strong enough to survive. Let us do our brothers proud.”

Swallowing back tears, Geralt nodded, letting himself be pulled up by Eskel.

As they walked down the stairs, Eskel started to recount the story of a prank he had pulled with another of their friends when Geralt was being punished for something. And then another. Geralt shared his own. Their friends were not there anymore to leave their impression on the world so it was up to them to make sure they were not forgotten along with the dust of Kaer Morhen.

///

Witchers are born in Kaer Morhen. It is their cradle, their school, their greatest teacher, and for all of them at one or another, their grave. This castle in the mountain, hidden away against the clouds was theirs, theirs to protect, theirs to love, theirs to treasure.

Witchers train, Witchers are made, and Witchers died. But Kaer Morhen had seen thousands of her children grow up, seen their bloods soak her roots, their laughter and screams embed themselves into her walls. Soldiers, and cowards, boys who never grew up, and old men who lived so long their bones started to crumble. Witchers armed with steel and silver and claws, growls and a medallion declaring them hers.

Because above all, Kaer Morhen was home to the School of the Wolf. And her pack would never die.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story, let me know either through kudos, comments, or both!  
> You can find me at fangirlshrewt97.tumblr.com!


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